System Activated: Rise of Liam Mercer

Chapter 4: Training and Trials

The storm had faded into a dull drizzle by the early hours of morning. Liam Mercer sat on the edge of the crumbling pier, legs dangling over the black water of the Thames. 

The docks were silent now, abandoned except for the occasional creak of rusted metal in the wind. 

His clothes clung to him like a second skin, cold and heavy, but the adrenaline that had kept him alive for hours still thrummed through his veins.

He flexed his fingers. The faint glow of the mark on his arm pulsed softly, almost like a heartbeat. The wind responded subtly, rippling around him, as if testing his command.

“Alright,” he muttered, voice rough from shouting and storming. “Let’s see what you can really do.”

[Wind Mastery: Basic Control Active. Sub-routines Available: Air Strike, Gale Step, Cyclone Shield.]

The voice of the System in his head was calm, mechanical, yet threaded with an almost imperceptible tone of approval. 

He inhaled sharply, reaching out with his mind. A breeze tickled his face, then swelled into a small gust that twisted the debris around him.

“Not bad,” he said, a small smirk crossing his bloodied face. “Let’s kick it up a notch.”

He extended his arm, palm forward. The wind answered, growing stronger, whipping water off the pier into swirling arcs. 

Liam laughed, half in exhilaration, half in disbelief. His heartbeat slowed slightly as he began to feel a rhythm, a push and pull, like breathing with the air itself.

[Air Strike: Ready.]

He focused, imagining a spike of air tearing through steel. The mist condensed into a sharp, silvery blade that shot forward with terrifying speed. 

It struck a rusted bollard on the pier, slicing through it like paper. The echo of splintering metal rolled across the empty docks. “Okay, that’s new.”

He ducked, letting the wind curl around him, shielding him from the cold drizzle. With a thought, he extended the barrier further, watching it form a semi-transparent wall of flowing air. 

Each gust snapped and hissed, tangible enough to push a man off balance. “Not bad, not bad at all,” he muttered. The System’s voice replied immediately:

[Elemental synchronization improving. Core Fragments Detected: 1/10.]

“Core Fragments,” he repeated, frowning. “More of these, and I’ll get stronger, but where do I even start?”

A sudden rustle from behind made him spin. Rainwater spattered his face as a shadowed figure emerged from the mist. 

His first reaction was to strike, but the figure didn’t attack. It simply watched him, cloaked in gray, hood low.

“Not here to fight,” the figure said calmly. “But you need guidance, Bearer of the Wind.”

Liam narrowed his eyes. “Guidance? From who?”

The figure stepped closer, revealing a badge of some kind, faintly glowing. “A mentor. Someone who understands the Houses. Someone who can teach you to control what you now wield.”

Liam laughed harshly, voice cracking. “Control? I just barely survived five of them last night! You want me to control this?”

“You have no choice,” the figure said. “If you do not learn quickly, you will be hunted again, and next time, the storm may not save you.”

The wind at Liam’s back surged violently, as if echoing the warning. He looked over the water, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.  The thought of being unprepared again, “never again.”

“Alright,” he said slowly, teeth clenched. “Teach me.”

“First lesson,” the figure said, gesturing. “Your power grows with intent, with emotion, but unchecked emotion will destroy you. You must learn precision, not just strength.”

Precision, he repeated. He clenched his fist. The wind around him coiled, responding like a living thing, circling, tightening, forming arcs and spirals that licked at his skin.

The figure pointed. “Hit that column.”

Liam focused, the wind compressing around his fist. With a sharp motion, he struck forward, the air detonating in a violent gust that shattered the column. 

Splinters flew like shards of glass. He exhaled sharply, adrenaline mingling with excitement.

“Good,” the figure said. “But now, push further. Control the area around you. Not just attack, but defend. Shape the wind, bend it to your will.”

Liam’s grin widened. For the first time, the fear and rage from the docks didn’t dominate. Instead, a thrill, a clarity. The storm wasn’t just around him, it was him.

He raised both hands, summoning a cyclone around the pier, water and debris spinning in a controlled vortex. 

It wasn’t perfect; he stumbled as the wind shifted unpredictably. But it held, tangible and deadly. “Not bad for a beginner,” the mentor said. “You will need more than this, but it is a start.”

“This is just the beginning.”

Liam Mercer, drenched and grinning through pain and exhaustion, felt it deep in his chest: a spark of mastery, the thrill of what he could become. 

The city around him waited, silent and watching. The System hummed, pulsing beneath his skin:

[Tier Two: Wind Mastery Active. Sub-routines improving. Core Fragments Detected: 2/10.]

A clap of thunder shook the pier. Liam smiled, eyes glowing bright. “Alright, System, next lesson. Show me everything you’ve got.”

The pier had grown eerily silent as dawn began to pierce the storm clouds. Liam Mercer stood at the center of the swirling wind he had summoned.

Heart hammering, rain dripping from his soaked hair. His mentor, the cloaked figure, circled him slowly, watching with measured attention.

“You’ve learned control,” the mentor said, voice calm but sharp. “But raw power isn’t enough. You need endurance, strategy, and the ability to react when every element in the environment is a weapon against you.”

Before Liam could respond, a ripple passed through the water, and five figures emerged from the mist, Acolytes. 

Their robes dark, their eyes hidden beneath hoods. Symbols burned faintly along their arms and weapons, red and gold arcs that glimmered menacingly in the pale light.

“Consider this your trial,” the mentor said. “They will test you as the storm itself does, relentless, precise, and unforgiving.”

Liam’s jaw tightened. “Then let’s begin.”

The Acolytes moved first, a coordinated advance. One raised a hand, summoning crimson sigils that pulsed in the air. 

Another lunged, blade flashing. Liam exhaled sharply, the wind answering, forming a rotating barrier around him that deflected both the strikes and the arcane projectiles.

[Cyclone Shield: Activated.]

The air hummed violently. Water from the Thames lifted, droplets spinning into sharp arcs around him. 

Rain collided with sigils, dispersing the energy into mist. Each strike he deflected strengthened the System’s feedback loop, increasing his reaction time and control.

Liam leapt, using Gale Step, propelling himself high into the air. The wind carried him, and he twisted, striking the nearest Acolyte with a concentrated air blade. 

The figure was slammed backward into a stack of crates, leaving a scarred impression of broken wood.

The remaining four closed in, their coordination flawless, attacking in waves. Liam focused on one at a time, manipulating the storm like a conductor. 

A flick of his wrist sent wind spikes slashing across the dock; a stomp lifted debris, hurling it at an incoming strike.

The mentor’s voice echoed in his mind. “Feel the environment, Mercer. Not just the wind, every movement, every obstacle, every raindrop can be a weapon. Your Core Fragments feed off adaptation.”

“Core Fragments, right.” Liam concentrated. He could feel the second fragment inside him, pulsing like a second heartbeat. 

He reached deeper, letting it synchronize with the storm around him. The wind sharpened, faster, more precise.

One Acolyte charged with a chain imbued with fiery energy. Liam sidestepped, extending his palm. 

A column of compressed wind struck, snapping the chain like dry reed. Sparks flew, illuminating his glowing eyes. “Not bad,” the mentor murmured. “But anticipate, don’t just react.”

Liam inhaled, feeling the storm swirl in a perfect loop around his fists. He exhaled in a controlled burst, sending a spiral of wind darts toward two of the Acolytes simultaneously. 

One was hurled into the Thames; the other slammed into the dockside railing. The final Acolyte hesitated, sensing the storm’s fury and Liam’s control. 

He raised a hand, and the air itself began to twist against Liam, a countercurrent forming, as though the storm was resisting him. “Interesting.”

Liam gritted his teeth, letting the System interface deeper with his instincts. He pushed, the wind around him coiling like a living serpent, striking with both speed and precision. 

The countercurrent splintered, broken by the perfect synchronization of intent and power.

For a moment, everything stilled, the river, the wind, the mist. Liam hovered in the center, drenched, exhausted, glowing with energy. 

Five defeated Acolytes sprawled around him, recovering from the force of the blows. 

The mentor approached, hood shadowing their face. “Excellent. You have not only survived, but mastered the environment around you. Few Bearers accomplish this at Tier Two.”

Liam let the wind dissipate, collapsing to his knees. Every muscle burned, every breath ragged, but inside him, the System pulsed brighter.

[Tier Two: Wind Mastery Complete. Sub-routines Fully Integrated. Core Fragments Detected: 3/10.]

He glanced at the horizon, clouds still darkening over London. “This city, it’s mine now. And the Acolytes are only the beginning.”

The mentor’s voice whispered in his mind. “Prepare yourself, Bearer. What you’ve faced so far is nothing. The Divine Houses do not tolerate mediocrity. Their next trial is coming, and it will test not only your power, but your resolve.”

A sudden rumble of thunder split the sky. Lightning flashed, illuminating the distant rooftops where shadowed figures gathered, watching, waiting.

Liam rose slowly, fists clenched. The storm’s energy pulsed through him, as tangible as muscle and bone. He smiled, bloodied but unbroken. “Then let them come,” he muttered. “I’m ready.”

The wind howled in agreement, lifting debris, spiraling around him, carrying the promise of power yet untapped.

And somewhere in the heart of London, the Divine Houses stirred, aware that the courier-turned-Bearer was no longer a pawn, but a storm in his own right.